


cover me

by glitterseas



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Bedsharing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Relationship, brief dissociation, dreaming of arson, dreaming of drowning, emotional face-touching, hand-holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 11:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15242058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterseas/pseuds/glitterseas
Summary: The nightmares never go away, but they find ways to cope with them.





	cover me

He knows almost immediately he's in a dream. He recognises the dark blue waters he's standing waist-deep in. He looks around; the sky above is cloudless and steel-coloured, the sea stretches around him, no land visible on the horizon. He's all alone. He waits, a more conscious part of him expects his patron to show up eventually, but minutes pass and nothing happens. He feels like he's being watched but he sees nothing that could meet his eyes. He frowns. The water is a smooth, endless expanse.

Suddenly a gust of wind comes out of nowhere and knocks him off his feet. He goes underwater only for a moment, but when he resurfaces, the sky has darkened and the waves are raging high. He tries to swim; he doesn't know where to, there is nothing for miles and miles, but he chooses a random direction and tries to push forward. He doesn't get far. The waves toss him around and swallow him. He tries to keep his head above the water, but he's already got a mouthful of it, and another, and another.

He bolts upright in his bedroll, coughing up the water that isn't there anymore, the sense of dread clinging to him like seaweed. He doesn't register where he is and even though there is sturdy ground underneath him, he can still feel the raging water surrounding him, pinning him down under until he can't breathe. He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting for a breath, praying silently for the coughing to finally subside as he clutches at his chest.

A hand cradles the back of his neck, slowly moving up and petting his hair. Normally he would start worrying about waking up his friends, but he's so lost in his head, still so shaken up that he can't even remember where he is, if not at the bottom of the sea. Someone whispers something to him, but all he can hear is the furious roar of the waves. The petting doesn't stop. Another hand gently wipes off his lips, once he's done coughing.

“Fjord, it's okay, you're with us,” when it finally reaches him, Caleb's voice sounds like it's behind a wall of glass.

In the background there might be some rustling but Fjord isn't sure. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to even out his breath and fails terribly as he starts breathing unnaturally fast and shallow. Someone takes his face in their hands, places their palms firmly on Fjord's temples. It does wonders to Fjord's mind which suddenly seems to zero in on that touch, as if the hands took every scattered thought and sensation and held it together like a very scared, wild bird. A thumb carefully strokes his left cheek in a soothing manner.

“It's okay now, it was just a bad dream, just a bad dream,” Caleb keeps whispering to him. Fjord tries to focus on his words, tries to let them sink in, even if he still feels a shadow of the ocean's weight on his chest.

The hand on the left side of Fjord's head is gone for a moment, but before Fjord can protest, he feels the softest of touches across his forehead. Knuckles brush gently against his temple, then a thumb smoothes out his eyebrow, the touch careful, almost reverent. Then the fingers move to the area under his eyes, his cheek again, then up his cheekbone and down along the path of his scar. The whole process is repeated on the other side of his face and by the time the hand has travelled to his chin, Fjord is completely calm.

He blinks his eyes open and the first thing he sees is Caleb's face at an arm's length from him. He's crouching next to Fjord with a slightly worried, but mostly unreadable expression. When he notices Fjord's open eyes, he drops his hands away from Fjord's face as if burned, but Fjord catches his hands before Caleb can tuck them away.

“Sorry, I—”

“Thank you,” Fjord cuts in. His voice is hoarse. He swallows, tries again, “I mean it, thank you.”

If it wasn't for his darkvision, he probably wouldn't notice the blush spreading high on Caleb's cheeks. Caleb nods and stares at the ground when he says, “No problem. Um, try to go back to sleep. There's still a few hours before sunrise.”

Fjord nods. Caleb squeezes his hands lightly once before Fjord lets him go and watches as the man goes back to his spot by the fire to keep watch. It takes him a long moment to fall asleep again and whenever he steals a glance at Caleb, the man is looking at him, a worried yet fond expression on his face.

* * *

If it weren't so terrifying, Caleb could appreciate how real the hum of magical energy in his hands feels in his dreams. But, as it is now, he is not yet aware that he's actually dreaming and watches in horror as flames erupt from his hands. His lips mutter words without his consent, his hand weaves magic from thin air, the energy gathering around him and glowing angry red and orange. His hand makes a circular motion, then his fingers flex and send a fiery orb towards a little cottage. The wooden walls catch on fire. Another ball of flames hits the house, then the woods nearby and the little garden, and the old fence, until there isn't a spot left that's not burning. And all Caleb can do is watch.

He can feel the warmth of the fire as it licks its way up the house. People are screaming inside, a lone figure jumps out of the window on the first floor and blindly runs forward, a living human-sized flame. Caleb tries to turn away from this, turn away and run, but his legs won't move. He tries to stop his hands as they move to summon another Fire Bolt, but they won't stop moving. He tries to close his eyes but the images are burnt into his eyelids. He can smell smoke, the overbearing scent of burning wood. His lips open to mutter the incantation and Caleb does the only thing he can come up with to stop them. He screams. He screams like he hasn't let himself scream in years.

He's still screaming when he wakes up, but the scream soon turns into sobbing. He sits up, puts his face in his hands, tries to stifle the crying. There's no use for it, he knows that. He can scream and cry and sob all he wants, but it won't change anything, it won't change the past and it certainly won't change the dreams. He lowers his hands onto his lap and stares at them mutely. Wonders if they will ever betray him again, wonders what he can do with hands like these that can bring such destruction. When he looks at them like that, they don't feel like they belong to him at all.

He feels the bed dip beside him. Fuck, he forgot that because of some confusion which he didn't really care to figure out too much he is sharing the room with Fjord this time and not Nott. Gods, like the dream couldn't just wait for a different night.

“Caleb?” Fjord says quietly like he's talking to a feral animal that you don't want to spook.

Caleb can only muster out a hum. He just keeps staring at his hands. He keeps  flexing and relaxing them, but they still feel foreign to him. He remembers the fire, the way his hands spun the spells out of his control. He shivers at the memory.

Fjord is silent next to him, like somehow he knows that no amount of talking will make Caleb right. Instead, gingerly he reaches for Caleb's hand, telegraphing his every move like he doesn't want to startle Caleb. Inch by inch Fjord's hand encompasses one of Caleb's, then slowly pulls back only to hold it and trace his palm lines, one by one. His touch tickles slightly, but the slow pace is almost hypnotising. Caleb can't help but follow the movement with his gaze.

When he runs out of palm lines, Fjord turns Caleb's hand so its back is facing him and starts tracing another line, this time from the knuckle up to the nail and back to the wrist. He repeats it with every finger, then turns the hand palm up again and cradles it against his own hand.

It's deafeningly quiet in the room, and Caleb can hear his blood pounding in his ears. Fjord reaches for his other hand. Caleb watches him trace lines again and he doesn't even need to put much effort to focus on the touch. The feel of Fjord's hands, the slight edge of his claw where it follows closely Caleb's heart line. Fjord's hands aren't exactly smooth but they are warm. Warm not like the consuming flames, but warm like being alive. Caleb turns the hand that's resting against Fjord's palm and takes a firm hold of Fjord's hand. Lets himself melt into the warmth, lets himself think, these hands don't have to bring harm, these hands can protect, too.

In the dim light of the oil lamp the contrast between their hands is fascinating. Caleb memorises each discoloration, each line and dip of Fjord's hands while Fjord keeps drawing an invisible map on Caleb's skin. When his work is done, Caleb realises he's calmed down. When he closes his eyes again for a moment, there is no house to set on fire waiting for him in his mind, at least for now. He opens his eyes and remembers he has yet to let go of Fjord's hands or look Fjord in the eyes. Both seem like insurmountable tasks.

“Thank you,” Caleb mutters, finally, looking somewhere at the area of Fjord's collarbone. He notes that Fjord hasn't tried to pull his hands back, either. Vaguely he thinks back to that time a few weeks ago when the roles were reversed and Caleb wasn't brave enough to offer Fjord comfort for as long as he needed it, but, rather, he fled, afraid that he'd done it wrong, worried that the others might stare or talk, worried for his own heart. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice now, he is sure of that.

“Are you okay now?” Fjord asks, concern clear in his voice.

“As okay as I can be,” Caleb replies, but the truth is he does feel better, he feels present, grounded. “I mean it, thank you.”

Fjord nods solemnly, Caleb can feel his gaze on his face. “Do you need me to do anything else?” he asks. His voice sounds impossibly deeper and softer.

A second passes and Caleb has a firm no ready on his lips, when both of them look at their joined hands. There was a right moment, if one could call that, to let go, but it passed minutes ago, Caleb thinks. He doesn't think he will drift away when he stops holding on to Fjord, because that would be a ridiculous thought, but he does think he will miss his touch. That he might find it harder to keep himself grounded for tonight.

He risks a glance at Fjord and finds him deep in thought, like he's figuring something out or coming to a decision. Not for the first time Caleb thinks he'd like to kiss him. Not for the novelty of it, not because he is so damn handsome, but rather because there is so much more beyond Fjord's good looks and smooth words. But Caleb doesn't know how to ask for that and he keeps quiet for a second more.

When he decides to speak, though, Fjord starts talking as well.

“I think I'll be—”

“I could, if you—”

They stop at the same time and Caleb says quickly, “You go first.”

Fjord hesitates this time. “We could, if you wouldn't mind, of course, uh, we could sleep—” He tilts his head slightly, indicating Caleb's bed.

Caleb is definitely blushing right now, he can feel the warmth spreading on his cheeks. He clears his throat slightly to buy himself some time, though he has no idea what for. He knows what answer he wants to give, it's the matter of not being a coward for once and saying it outloud. “I wouldn't mind, if you don't mind,” he says, but he can't bring himself to look Fjord in the eyes again, this time settling on his right temple.

Then Fjord lets go of one of Caleb's hands and gets up from the bed and Caleb is completely sure he fucked up, after all, he fucked it all up, but Fjord just murmurs, “I'll just put out the lamp.” And then the bed dips again and Caleb moves to make room for Fjord.

The bed is definitely not big enough for the two of them and there is barely any room for them once they settle on their sides, Fjord behind Caleb, his arm loosely draped over Caleb's stomach. Caleb carefully puts his hand over Fjord's where it's resting right under his sternum.

“If I wake up, all rattled or somethin'...,” Fjord says very softly, his lips right next to Caleb's ear.

“I'll know what to do,” Caleb whispers back and squeezes Fjord's hand once.

He thinks he can feel Fjord smile as he tightens his hold on him.

**Author's Note:**

> if you feel like yelling at me about critical role or widofjord, you can find me @ [tumblr](http://glitterforests.tumblr.com/)


End file.
